


t'nash-veh

by Adenil



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: (and the twenty more he leaves in other places), Anal Sex, Biting, Bruising, Choking, Come Marking, D/s, Double Penetration, Episode: s02e05 Amok Time, I didn't realize how many different sex acts were in this fic until I started tagging it, Intercrural Sex, Leonard H. 'the H stands for Hickey Slut' McCoy, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Pon Farr, Possessive Sex, Public Sex, Rimming, Whoa, alternate title: Pon Farr: The Hickeying, alternate title: The Pon Farr Fiasco, alternate title: The Pon Farr Fluke, alternate title: The Twenty Bruises Spock Leaves on McCoy's Throat, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 19:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11493261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil
Summary: t'nash-vehpronoun1. mine2. a thing or things belonging to the speaker[AKA the McSpirk Pon Farr fic we deserve.]





	t'nash-veh

**Author's Note:**

> Blame [ doctormccoy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/doctormccoy) for all the alternate titles, blame [ Kisaru ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisaru/pseuds/Kisaru) for the image that started this all, and blame them both for all the eager bottom McCoy headcanons.
> 
> Please mind the tags before you read!

 

 

 

Ensign Monroe was at the controls when he got the call for two to beam up from Vulcan. Captain Kirk arrived on the transporter pad looking exhausted, his sweat-drenched hair hanging in his face, his shirt slashed across the front to expose a line of dried, caked blood on his chest. He was covered in sand and dust. Doctor McCoy looked even worse off. He had a haunted look about him and his shirt sleeve had been shredded. His neck and shoulder were covered in bruises and— _bite marks_?

Monroe blinked as the Captain fixed the Doctor with a concerned look. “Bones…”

“You should get to Sickbay,” Dr. McCoy said. “I don’t want that wound getting infected.”

Captain Kirk reached out as if to touch McCoy, but instead he dropped his hand. “Don’t try to handle this alone.”

“I just need a shower.” Dr. McCoy ran his fingers through his hair, shoulders stooped with exhaustion. “And a couple bottles of brandy. Get to Sickbay and Chapel will take care of you.”

The Captain nodded and glanced at Monroe, who had been trying to pretend he wasn’t listening. Monroe busied himself with aimlessly fiddling with the dials. “...I’ll stop by later.”

McCoy nodded and the two of them stepped out into the hall and parted ways. Monroe strained his neck to see which way they went, but the door swished shut before he could tell. He stood there a moment, thinking, and then his comm lit up again.

“Spock to Enterprise. One to beam up.”

Hastily, Monroe activated the transporter. Spock materialized in a whir of sparkles looking pristine and immaculate. Whatever had hit the Captain and Doctor seemed to have missed Commander Spock. Only his shoes were dusty. He didn’t have a hair out of place.

Spock nodded to him. “Ensign.”

“Commander.” Monroe stared at him as he stepped from the transporter pad and strolled out the door.

As the door swished shut Monroe frowned at the control panel. He’d heard a rumor the three were going to a wedding, but that certainly didn’t look like the aftermath of any wedding he’d ever been to. What the hell had _happened_ down there?

*

McCoy stumbled into his quarters and fell back against the closed door, shaking. The walk to his quarters had been mortifying. He felt like every eye on the ship had been trained on him, boring into him to examine his torn shirt and the haphazardly placed bruises covering his body. Jim was different—he was used to it—but McCoy felt the embarrassment keenly. He thought that the whole crew probably knew what had gone on between the three of them on Vulcan.

He was hyperventilating. He pushed away from the wall and tried to walk it off, marching back and forth across the living room. His hands shook and he balled them into fists.

He stopped. This wasn’t working. He took a deep breath and pressed a panel on the wall. The wall slid aside and a floor-length mirror appeared, and McCoy took a good long look at himself.

Probably it wasn’t that obvious, he lied to himself. A torn shirt was a common occurrence on any away mission, and those bruises could have been from anything. It was only because he’d been there that he recognized the shape of Spock’s mouth, the neat imprint of his teeth. His blue eyes looked back at him, wide and nervous. There was a bruise on his upper arm and he touched it, feeling detached.

He closed his eyes.

_Spock swung at his captain—his friend!—without holding back. The blade sliced across Jim’s chest and exposed skin and blood. It was happening too quickly. McCoy tensed with the need to stop this—put an end to this madness. Then Jim was down and Spock lifted the bladed weapon above his head, and he screamed:_

_“Spock! No!”_

_He imagined that Spock hesitated, but whatever happened it was enough for Jim to get away. He disarmed Spock and T’Pau raised her hand, shouting something harsh and violent in Vulcan._

_Spock stopped. Jim knelt on the ground, chest heaving with his panting breaths._

_Panic. Panic. McCoy’s heart thudded in his chest. Jim was going to die. Jim was going to_ die _and Spock was going to kill him, which meant Spock would die as well. He couldn’t let this happen!_

_“Is this Vulcan chivalry?” He was moving without thinking, a plan rapidly forming in his head. “The air’s too hot and thin for Kirk. He’s not used to it.”_

_T’Pau shrugged, apparently unimpressed. “The air is the air. What can be done?”_

_He had to impress her. He raised a hypo. “I can compensate for the atmosphere and the temperature with this. At least it'll give Kirk a fighting chance.”_

_T’Pau didn’t even hesitate. “Thee may proceed.”_

_McCoy tried to talk himself down from a panic attack. He stared at Jim, wide-eyed as he walked across the field. Make it look good. Make it look real! The hypo was cold and solid in his hands as he stepped between Spock and Jim, stopping beside his captain and friend._

_“You’re going to have to kill him, Jim,” he said matter-of-factly._

_Jim shied away from the the hypo. “Kill Spock? That’s not what we came to Vulcan for, is it?”_

_It was true. McCoy had to look away from Spock, from his dark face, near-black eyes. McCoy reached out to Jim. His hands were steady. He could do this. He could save them._

_“T'nash-veh!”_

_He jerked as Spock grabbed his arm, yanking him bodily away from Jim. The hypo fell to the ground and skittered away. Spock’s grip on him was violent and he cried out, “Spock!”_

In his quarters he shook as he touched the hand-shaped bruise on his bicep. McCoy ran his fingers over the purpling edge of it, counting the shape of Spock’s long fingers. The imprint of Spock’s hand was perfect. Unmarred because McCoy hadn’t even struggled.

He should heal this, he thought. There was a portable dermal regenerator in his desk drawer and he could have gotten it, but he didn’t. He stayed rooted to that spot and watched himself touch the bruise. He pressed down and hissed in pain. It was sore. It hurt. His eyes prickled with tears and he pressed harder. He lifted the pressure with a shudder and turned his head, trying to count the marks on his bare shoulder and neck. There were too many, all layered over top of one another. There was a particularly nasty bite mark right on the side of his neck. The first one.

_“Bones!”_

_Spock jerked him again and he stumbled to his feet, falling backwards against the trunk of Spock’s body. Spock’s hands were on him and he thought,_ I’m going to die _._

_“What is the meaning of this!” T’Pring exclaimed, whipping around to glare at T’Pau. “You allow this interference?”_

_T’Pau raised her hand to silence her. “You know the role of the lak noy. Allow them to settle this.”_

_“It’s alright,” McCoy managed, waving his hand for Jim to keep still. “Jim, I’m alright.”_

_Jim’s hands were raised, body poised to leap up at any moment. “Bones?”_

_Spock wasn’t squeezing him any longer. He was pressed fully against McCoy’s back, his chest rising and falling with his rapid, hectic breaths. One of his hands had come to McCoy’s neck and his nose was pressed just behind his ear. He snuffled, animalistic, and McCoy shuddered. He told himself to stay calm. This plak tow thing, this fight, it had done something to Spock. He’d gone nonverbal now as he sniffed McCoy’s neck. Trying to decide if he was a rival suitor?_

_But Spock didn’t seem to be hurting him. McCoy forced himself to relax. “It’s okay,” he said softly, shivering as Spock began to touch his arm again, his other hand still loosely resting against his neck. He could feel Spock all up and down his back, burning hot and tense with need, and he wished like hell he could see him. He felt like a cornered animal, quaking in his boots, awaiting an attack he could never see coming. “It’s fine, he—Ah!”_

_He gasped as Spock bit down on the cord of his neck, hard. Hard enough to draw blood and his whole body hitched forward, trying to get away, but Spock’s hands held him fast, and he could feel Spock’s arousal pressing against his ass, insistent._

McCoy gasped as he pinched the tender cut on his neck. Spock had been so wild, so desperate, and McCoy was ashamed at how much it had aroused him to have that Vulcan handling him like that, keeping him from getting away. The excitement had started as a flutter in his chest and worked its way down, and he groaned at the memory—

_He groaned as Spock lapped at the wound, his eyes fluttering shut._

_“Bones? Bones, I’m going to get you out of here.”_

_“It’s okay,” he managed. “It doesn’t hurt,” he lied through his teeth._

_“What is this?” Jim turned to glare at T’Pau and her entourage. “What is this!”_

_“The plak tow,” she said, as if it were very obvious. Maybe to her it was._

_McCoy managed to look over and saw that T’Pring had apparently grown bored. She watched with disinterest as Spock nipped at him again, softer this time, panting against his neck desperately, hips twitching. God, if only he still had that hypo he could have given it to Spock and this would all have been over in just a few minutes._

_It lay across the field, glinting at him, mocking._

_Jim shifted in the sand and Spock growled—actually_ growled _, low in his throat like a cat. The sound shocked McCoy, terrified him and did funny things to his insides. The idea that a sound like that could come from Spock—impossible._

_“Bones, I’ll handle him.” Slowly, Jim raised his hands. If he moved slowly enough Spock didn’t seem to care. “Just take my hand. I’ll pull you away and you can run.”_

_He shook his head and kept his hands balled into fists at his side. “You think I’m just going to let you get killed!”_

_“Do you expect me to sit here and watch you do the same thing!?”_

_“Jim, I don’t think he wants to kill me.” He gasped as Spock grabbed the neck of his uniform top and_ pulled _, tearing it like tissue paper in his hands. God, Spock was too strong. Even if he didn’t intend it that incredible Vulcan strength could break every bone in his body. Still, he said, “No. I don’t think that’s what he’s after at all.”_

_Jim’s eyes widened as a dawning look of understanding passed over his face._

The bruises. Spock had sucked them all into his skin, marked him until he was twisting from the tight pleasure of it. Spock’s mouth on him, abusing him, was too good. He pressed each bruise with his fingers and tried to recall how it had felt to have Spock pressed against him, cock hard against his ass, rutting against him mindless and needy. A creature not of logic and rationality, but of heat and passion.

_“Jim, please.” He reached out, shaking, and put his hand on Jim’s shoulder to steady himself. Jim looked up at him with wide, hazel eyes. He’d always thought his friend was beautiful but here, now, as Jim looked at him with tousled hair, bare chest still heaving, lips parted as he tried to think of something to say to fix the situation, he was stunning. “I don’t—”_

_A look of steely determination came over Jim’s face as he slid expertly into command-mode. “Don’t worry,” he said—commanded. His hands came slowly up to steady McCoy’s hips as Spock began to thrust against him fast, stilted._

_Spock was still growling low in his chest and it sent vibrations up and down McCoy’s spine. McCoy was astonished at how hard he’d gotten just from fighting Jim. God, and of course that’s what this was. His fight with Jim. McCoy knew their relationship was closer than most, but he hadn’t expected...And then he’d been fool enough to stand between them. He closed his eyes in defeat. He could feel Spock’s hands at his waist, tearing at the material of his slacks. He was going to rip them, surely._

_“Spock, let me.” He heard the crinkle as Jim opened the front of his uniform slacks. “Don’t worry,” he commanded again. “Just hold on a little bit longer._ ”

In his quarters McCoy slide his hand into the front of his slacks and touched himself. He was growing hard again, just from the memory. Just from touching the marks Spock had left him with, from picturing Jim on his knees looking up.

He bit his lip. He looked into the mirror and saw dust and darkness, and so he opened the front of his slacks.

_Jim pushed down his pants just enough to expose him to the hot, dry air of Vulcan. Then he reached behind carefully, easily, stopping as Spock growled at him and then moving forward again when Spock grew used to him. He undid Spock’s slacks and slid them down._

_McCoy gasped as Spock’s erection slipped out against his ass. It was hot. Burning. He gripped Jim’s shoulders tightly and blinked away tears as Jim threaded Spock’s burning cock between his legs._

_“Squeeze,” Jim encouraged, and McCoy could not disobey his captain._

_He squeezed as Spock began to thrust between his legs, slick and wet. Spock’s hands were on his chest, his neck, holding his head steady even as the power of his thrusts threatened to topple him over. And Jim’s hands were on his hips and his round face was upturned, questioning, soft plush lips a hand’s-breadth from his half-hard erection._

_Jim opened his mouth. McCoy pushed in._

He’d always known Jim was good at sex. He had a bit of a reputation, but now McCoy understood that it was justly earned. He hadn’t gotten his skills from fucking an infinite amount of people. He gotten them by doing what he did best: watching. Learning. Adjusting.

Just the memory of Jim’s mouth on him, hazel eyes warm with affection and adoration, was enough for McCoy to close his hand around his cock. God, he was a mess. He was so fucked up. He began to stroke himself in his dim quarters, breathing, “Jim... _Jim_.”

He was desperate for it, sobbing for it. He wanted them both back so badly he ached with every fibre of his being.

_Spock’s erection sliding over his balls made him ache with arousal; Jim’s mouth sucking him, swallowing down his hot length made him cry out. Spock bit him again, as if in punishment for his outburst. Or perhaps he was encouraging it. Spock’s hand pressed against his windpipe and he struggled weakly, not really wanting to get away even though he damned well knew he should. Spock cut off his air flow and sucked at his neck and thrust that wet, slippery cock between his legs and he felt—_

_He shook his head, trying to dispel the feeling. It was like someone was whispering in his ear but he couldn’t make out the words. It was eerie. He rutted into Jim’s mouth and Jim sucked hard, moaning around his cock, the flutter of his throat tickling at his head. He could feel—what was it? What was happening? God, he felt_ possessed _._

 _Not with a spirit, but he was_ owned _. “Yours,” he gasped, and Spock growled his approval. “Yours, I’m yours. I belong—I’m yours, please, I’m—Spock!”_

_Spock shuddered as he came between McCoy’s legs, come hot and sticky between his thighs, and the force of it pushed McCoy over the edge and he poured out into Jim’s waiting mouth and Jim tugged his hips forward, swallowing eagerly, gasping with his own desire. He could feel Jim’s mouth go slack as he came in his pants just from sucking him, from seeing the two of them wrapped up together._

_His words slurred together and it was only Spock’s sturdy body the kept him upright. “Sp...Jim, ‘m...yours.”_

He leaned against the wall and thrust into his own hand, his palm resting against the dark bruise Spock had left at his neck. He was a mess. What the fuck? What was he doing? He was going to come again, just from the memory. He was going to come touching those bruises on his neck, the dried come between his legs. He was going to come begging Spock to own him again. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, and—

The door chimed.

McCoy jerked away from the wall as if he’d been stung. “Shit,” he whispered, and then called out, “Who’s there?”

“Bones, it’s me.”

Still cursing, McCoy pushed himself back into his pants and buttoned them. He threw his tattered shirt off and grabbed the first replacement that came to his hand, his black thermal undershirt. He pulled it on and tried to straighten his hair and pretend like he wasn’t losing his mind as he called, “Come in.”

Jim stepped through the door looking wide-eyed. He’d changed and was wearing patient scrubs that were one size too small for him. “Bones, what the fuck.”

“What?”

“Have you…” Jim looked around, hectic, apparently panicked. “Were you masturbating?”

He puffed up and tried to angle his hips away. “Is that your business?”

“I could feel you.” Jim was practically running across the room. His hair was still awry, McCoy noticed. “I—The whole time in Sickbay I felt like someone was touching me. Hands on my skin. My neck. My shoulder. And then—But it was _you_. Bones, I could feel you touching _yourself_.”

He gaped. “Wh—?”

Jim nodded as if he’d said something profound. “I need to touch you.”

He gasped as Jim descended upon him, falling into his arms and claiming his open mouth. McCoy shuddered in shock as their bodies collided, Jim’s lips insistent, forceful, as Jim kissed him with unbridled passion. He held Jim back fiercely and their mouths opened as Jim insinuated his leg between McCoy’s thighs.

Jim pulled back just enough to murmur, “You still smell like him,” and then they were kissing again.

There was no finesse. No time to get to know one another. Every place where he touched Jim seemed to come alive under his hands and Jim had him against the wall, was writhing against him, fucking his mouth with his tongue and no, _this_ was how McCoy was going to come. With an armful of eager Jim Kirk rutting against him, desperate gasps filling the miniscule space between them. This was what he wanted. What need need. _Jim_.

The door chimed again.

“Fuck!” McCoy shoved Jim away and yanked down his shirt. “Who is it!?”

A pause, and then, “It is Spock.”

They both exchanged a look. Spock. Spock was here, on the other side of his door. Spock, whose come was still between his legs, whose marks were everywhere on his body. Spock, whose mere voice made Jim’s eyes dilate with pleasure. Spock to whom they belonged.

“Should we let him in?” Jim hissed.

If he’d had more time to think about it, or if he’d been in a less sex-addled state of mind, he might have decided against it. But instead, he nodded. “Come in.”

The door swished open and Spock stepped in looking far too put together for his own good. His hands were neatly folded behind his back and his jaw was slightly uplifted as he surveyed the situation. Two humans, panting against the wall. Probably the room smelled of arousal, McCoy thought. He wished he hadn’t put on a different shirt. He wanted Spock to see that he was still marked. He flushed with embarrassment at the mere thought.

“Spock,” he managed as a greeting.

Spock nodded. “Doctor. Captain.” He raised his brow. “I hope I am not intruding.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding—”

“You’re not intruding, Spock,” Jim interrupted hastily. “We were just…” He looked at McCoy, panicked. “Debriefing the mission.”

“I see.” He stood with his legs slightly apart. “Do you wish to debrief me as well, Captain?”

Jim looked at him like he was crazy, and McCoy thought that _finally_ they were on the same page when it came to Spock’s annoyingly practical mind. “I mean...yes?”

“Cut the crap, Spock,” McCoy said. “Did nothing that happened down there ruffle those impeccable feathers of yours?”

Spock considered the question. After a moment, he said, “It is fortunate that you are both here together.”

“Why’s that?” McCoy asked.

“It will make what I have to say easier.” He took a step forward. “Doctor, Captain, do you recall the last word I said before the _plak tow_ took me?”

McCoy tried to make his mouth say the unfamiliar syllables, but Jim said instantly, “You said ‘ _t’nash-veh.’”_

Spock nodded. “A Vulcan word. It means ‘mine.’ That which belongs to me.”

McCoy’s blood ran cold. He’d been right, then. Spock had torn him away from Jim because he saw him as a rival. He flushed with embarrassment and looked away. They would want each other, then. McCoy knew he was a paltry substitute if they could have each other. “Maybe you two should go,” he muttered.

“Go?” Spock seemed honestly confused.

“If the—plak tow, or whatever, still has you and you want to be alone.” At the look on Spock’s face McCoy grimaced. “Please, Spock, for once can you just be kind and let me down easily?”

He felt a hand on his arm and he looked down to see Jim frowning at him. He tried to communicate with his eyes that it was okay, really, but Jim just shook his head gently.

He turned and saw Spock was beside him as well, his hand falling to rest just above the bruise. Spock pressed just hard enough for him to feel it. “I will admit that the pon farr has not fully left me. I believe at this time I could mediate to rid myself of its last effects, but I do not wish to.” He hesitated, looking down at the ground. “When I spoke of what was mine, I meant it in reference to _both_ of you.”

Beside him, Jim gasped. McCoy was too shocked to do anything but stare.

“Spock,” Jim said. “You mean…?”

He nodded. “I had not thought...When I touched you during our altercation, Captain, I found myself wishing our violence were...different. And Leonard, when I tore you away, the last of my controls fell. I could feel your...fear. Your excitement.” He bowed his head in shame. “I apologize for frightening you.”

McCoy gulped. “You couldn’t help it.”

“Nevertheless, I never wish to see you frightened.”

He gulped again and looked to Jim for support. “I...think I liked it.”

Jim was grinning at him like a buffoon. “Is that true?”

“Shut up.”

He jumped as Spock’s hand came to rest at the hollow of his neck. “You are injured,” he whispered.

“It’s nothing.”

“You should show him, Bones,” Jim said, and his hands came to the hem of McCoy’s shirt.

“I…” He glanced between the two of them, biting his lip. “Spock are you going to wake up tomorrow and decide this was just a pon farr-related fluke?”

Spock looked at him softly. “No,” he promised. “I will not. I wish to claim you as my own, and that will not change with the passage of time. Leonard, will you let me see?”

He stayed quiet, helpless in the face of Spock’s honesty. He didn’t protest as Jim lifted the black shirt up and over his head. He heard Spock’s quiet gasp as the extent of the damage became clear. He watched as Spock reached out to touch the curved half-moons of his bite marks, the array of bruises. The touch sent a shudder through his body.

“I did this to you?”

“Yeah.” McCoy tried to read Spock’s expression. Awe, he thought. Or maybe desire. Clearly satisfaction. “I definitely liked it.”

Spock looked up at him again, heated, pupils dilated. “You still smell of me, Leonard.”

He quaked at the force of Spock’s words. Jim was touching his stomach, his ribs, then the hem of his pants. “What are...what are you two doing?”

Jim glanced at Spock. “What _are_ we doing?”

Spock took Jim’s face into his hands and pulled him forward, breathing hot over his lips. “I will take Leonard,” he whispered, kissing Jim softly, gently, licking into his mouth so that Jim melted before McCoy’s eyes. “And you will assist me.”

“Yeah,” Jim breathed as they pulled back. “Yeah, I will.”

“Do I get a say in this?” McCoy grumbled.

“Would you like one?” Spock had already turned back to him and was kissing his jaw, the side of his neck that wasn’t mottled with bruising. He paused to take a piece of McCoy into his mouth, sucking softly, wet sounds loud in the room.

“...No,” McCoy managed eventually. “This is fine.”

Spock kissed the bruise he had left as Jim knelt at their feet to undo his boots. He set them aside and unfastened McCoy’s pants, slipping them down over his hips. McCoy was still hard and he shivered as the cold recirculated air wafted over him. So different from the dry heat of Vulcan.

He felt very naked. Too naked. He was glad when Jim took a step away and began to undress as well, tossing his clothes aside haphazardly. Beside him, Spock watched Jim heatedly.

There was no sign of the cut Spock had left on Jim’s body. Spock still reached out and touched his chest, ran his thumb over the line where it had been. McCoy reached out as well.

“Chapel does fine work.”

Jim looked at him from beneath his eyelashes. He shifted so that McCoy’s palm came to rest on the curve of his pectoral and McCoy took the hint and lifted his thumb up to brush over Jim’s nipple, drawing a shiver out of his friend.

“I apologize for the injury I caused you, Captain.”

“Spock, don’t call me that at a time like this. I’m naked.”

“Indeed.” Spock looked at him with great interest.

McCoy tried not to feel jealous at the attention. They were here together, and there was plenty of love to go around, but it was a hard habit to shake. “What, I don’t get an apology?”

“No,” Spock said simply, and Jim chuckled at McCoy’s look of shock. “It would be illogical for me to apologize for marks I delighted in leaving on your body.”

Jim wrapped his arms around McCoy’s waist and nuzzled at his chin. “He’s got a point there, Bones.”

“You alway take his side,” he complained, shaking in Jim’s arms.

Spock was suddenly only a breath away. “Side, Leonard? Are we against each other?”

He could feel Spock’s hand on his neck, tracing the marks. Someone—Jim, or Spock, or perhaps both—was touching his stomach. Fingers danced over his quivering skin, around his aching cock, and finally came to rest at the tender skin between his thighs. They rubbed and McCoy shuddered in delight.

“No,” he said. “We’re not against each other.”

The two of them—Jim bare, Spock still far too clothed—herded him into the other room and onto the bed. Jim lay down beside him and kissed him, running his golden hands up and down his body until McCoy was twisting in delight. Jim cupped his ass and massaged, running his fingers down to McCoy’s knee so he could draw it up and around his waist, leaving McCoy shockingly open for Jim’s searching fingers.

He gasped at the sensation of Jim’s hands on his ass, then one finger pressed against his hole. He managed to open his eyes—when had he closed them?—and saw Spock had just finished undressing. He gasped at the sight of him, all long lean lines, his slit wet and dripping, blushed brilliant green. Spock rummaged around in his bedside cabinet and came up with a bottle of personal lubricant. He handed it off and Jim took it without even pausing the kiss, and McCoy grumbled into his mouth at how in sync they were.

The bottle snapped open. McCoy arched as Jim pressed his wet hand against him again, index finger rubbing maddening circles until McCoy was shaking and then finally, finally Jim pushed into him, sliding in slow and steady and McCoy opened for him.

He realized he was panting against Jim’s neck, both his arms folded between their bodies. Jim kissed his temple and chuckled. “What do you think, Spock?”

Spock’s voice came from the foot of the bed. “You are both beautiful, Jim.”

McCoy flushed with heat. He lifted his head just enough to frown at Spock, his glare losing none of its strength despite the fingers in his ass. “Are you just going to stand there and look?”

Spock arched his brow. “It is quite pleasing to do so. Does it disturb you?”

His blush magnified. “No,” he lied, and then jerked in surprise as Jim slipped another finger inside of him. “Do...whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“Bones, just relax.”

“I’m relaxed,” he muttered. “I’d be more relaxed if Spock wasn’t getting a show over there.”

Spock took the hint and crawled into bed alongside them, his dick once again hot and slippery on McCoy’s ass. He pressed against McCoy’s back, close on the narrow bed, and reached over him to run his hand through Jim’s hair. He drew Jim forward and Jim followed his unspoken direction, kissing McCoy again, licking his way into his mouth as he fingered him.

McCoy’s cock was now sandwiched tightly against Jim’s stomach. He thrust against the softness there, and some of the pressure lifted and he gasped, wrought with the simple pleasure of it. He could feel Spock’s hands on his hips and then Spock began to thrust shallowly over his bottom, his dick sliding against Jim’s fingers. The act was electrifying. McCoy rubbed off on Jim and let Spock pleasure himself like that, groaning as Jim slipped another wet finger inside of him.

Three fingers. Jim fanned them out and McCoy gasped. He could feel Spock’s slick erection between his cheeks, and then just the tip brushed against his hole. Spock sucked another bruise on his shoulder blade and Jim licked at his mouth.

“Is he ready, Jim?”

Jim kissed the corner of his mouth and sighed, “Yeah.”

“Kneel for me, Leonard.”

Jim had to help him maneuver. McCoy groaned as Jim slipped those sweet fingers out and began to pull his leg to get him to roll. He knelt up over Jim’s body, one leg on either side of Jim’s hips, his shaking arms his only support as he looked down into Jim’s hazel eyes. They seemed to glitter at him and McCoy tried to remember the last time he’d seen him so happy. He couldn’t recall.

Spock knelt behind him, long fingers running like water down his back. Beneath him, Jim shuddered, a line of confusion on his brow, and McCoy thought about Jim’s words earlier. Did he still feel everything McCoy felt? Did he feel stretched out and aching for more? Did his skin tingle with arousal? Could he sense Spock’s fingers at his bottom, two slipping inside to check his own handiwork?

Spock pulled his fingers out, apparently pleased. “Are you ready, Leonard?”

He found he couldn’t speak. He was shaking, mouth open as he shuddered. How was it possible for sex to feel like _this_? He couldn’t even nod but Jim took his face in his hands and held him steady, smiling up at him.

“He’s ready.”

Spock lined the head of his angular cock up, rubbing, pressing, and then slipped in. Just the tip, barely there, and then Spock took McCoy’s hips in his hands and slowly pulled him back, forcing McCoy to take more and more, each centimeter thicker than the last until McCoy was keening, stretched to the limit, filled with Spock as Spock folded himself over his body and began to thrust.

McCoy lifted his ass up, back arched, encouraging, his head falling down so that his forehead rested on Jim’s smooth chest. He jumped as a hand closed around his dick and he let his eyes fall open to see Spock’s hand tugging him down to line up with Jim’s dripping cock. Spock pressed them together and he moaned.

“God, Bones,” Jim said, jerking his hips up into Spock’s hand. “Feels...so _good_.”

“He is taking it excellently,” Spock agreed, his voice warm with praise and McCoy shuddered again, just from the words. “So beautiful... _ashayam_.”

And then he felt— _that_ again. That feeling like someone was behind him, whispering in his ear, only this time he knew what it was. It was Spock. Spock’s _mind_ pressing against him, filling him just as Spock filled his ass, taking him, claiming him the way Spock claimed his neck, his skin, his body. Spock was biting him again and he shouted into the air, only one word echoing through his mind.

_Mine!_

“Yours!” He was sobbing, shuddering as Spock took him with punishing thrusts. “Spock, I’m—”

“You’re _mine_ ,” Spock growled against his skin, vibrations flowing down his spine. “Mine to take.”

“Yes!”

“Mine to possess.”

He sobbed. “ _Please_.”

“You take it well, Leonard. You are meant for this. Jim, are you close to orgasm?”

“I’d say so,” Jim said, his voice high and thready. His face was tense with pleasure as he jerked his hips up into Spock’s hand again, the length of his cock hard against McCoy’s own erection.

“If you can avoid it I will let you come inside of him.”

For once, McCoy didn’t argue with him. He had no energy for it, couldn’t even recall why he might want to. All he knew was Spock’s hand on his cock, Jim writhing beneath him, Spock pounding into him and filling him, taking him, claiming him and marking him.

Jim gasped. “Then—Stop, Spock. Stop touching me.”

Spock obeyed instantly and Jim shimmied up, sucking in a few huge breaths to regain control of himself. McCoy watched him, blinking stars from his eyes and gasping for more. He wanted Jim back. He wanted to hold him. But Jim twisted around, flipped, and then he was crawling back under McCoy headfirst.

“Jim—!”

He jerked as Jim swallowed him down, mouth so desperate he got a taste of Spock’s fingers. Spock pulled back a bit and then fed Jim McCoy’s cock, grinding against his ass as McCoy groaned.

It was too much—too good—with Jim’s soft, perfect mouth around him, Spock behind him panting, biting. Jim’s cock brushed against his cheek and he weakly poked his tongue out to lick it and Jim shuddered under him and twisted up, the flutter of his throat a steady pressure and— _fuck_. He didn’t know Jim could _do that_ , swallow him all so that Jim’s nose was pressed against his balls, throat clicking as he drank him down. Spock slammed into him and McCoy’s hip hitched forward deeper into Jim’s throat and Jim groaned around him, begging.

Spock bit his ear, rolling it between his teeth. “ _Mine._ ”

He came sobbing down Jim’s throat and Jim swallowed it beautifully, hungrily. He could feel Spock’s movements grow shaky, disjointed, and then Spock was coming into him as well, still pounding, pushing his mark deep, and someone was shouting loud enough that McCoy’s ears rang, his throat ached.

He thought he collapsed, but no. Spock was still holding him.

His arms were limp. Dangling. He could feel Jim’s soothing hands on his ribs, Spock’s arms around his chest keeping him steady. He ached everywhere and Spock was still inside him, still hard. His cock slipped, limp, from Jim’s mouth and Jim kissed his stomach before wriggling his way up again.

Jim lifted his face and kissed his slack mouth, and he could taste his own come, Jim’s excitement. “Was it good, Bones?”

He couldn’t speak. He nodded, head lolling, and chuckled. Yeah. It was good.

He could feel Spock moving behind him but he still didn’t pull out. Spock hadn’t grown soft and McCoy figured that was a Vulcan thing. With an interior dick once it was out, it was out. His ass was sore but the feeling of Spock still inside of him wasn’t unpleasant. It was nice. Comforting. He sighed as Spock began to touch his tender hole, stretched out around him.

“Leonard?” he whispered.

“Hnn?”

“Would you be capable of taking us both?”

He shuddered at the idea. God, he was already wrung out, exhausted. But when he looked at the excitement in Jim’s eyes he felt it like the stunning force of a phaser blast. He wanted to. He wanted to do it for Jim; he wanted to do it to make Spock happy. “I-I don’t know.”

“He needs more stretching,” Jim said, looking dubious despite his excitement.

“Indeed.” Spock’s finger pressed against him again and McCoy gasped, arching. “Just relax for me, Leonard.”

The first finger slipping in alongside Spock’s hot erection was doable. Spock’s cock had already loosened him. He twitched and shifted, drawing his legs further apart and Jim kissed his forehead, soothing. Spock slowly curled that finger inside him, drawing out his own come and smearing it around his hole.

The second finger made him gasp. “Spock…?”

“Relax,” Spock said, soothing. “Assist me, Jim?”

Together they manhandled him into sitting up, his back against Spock’s chest, legs spread wanton and wide on either side of Spock’s hips, Spock’s thick cock deep inside of him as he settled down. He groaned as it filled him so deeply, so utterly that he couldn’t tell where Spock ended and he began. Spock fingered him gently, laying kisses along his neck, occasionally scraping over the sore bruises with his teeth.

Jim knelt down again and took McCoy’s limp cock in his hand. McCoy whimpered as he pushed it aside to make room for his mouth and before McCoy could figure out what he was trying to do Jim was already licking him. Jim licked around the stretched ring of muscle, lapping at the place where McCoy’s body met Spock’s, and then he wriggled his tongue inside.

“Ah!”

“You are doing well, Leonard,” Spock praised. His free arm wrapped around McCoy’s chest protectively, his fingers feathering gently over his neck.

McCoy squirmed at the contact, remembering how it had felt to have Spock behind him in the desert, squeezing until he gasped for breath. He was ashamed by how turned on he was by the thought of Spock losing control. It had hurt, yes, but he wanted it again. He wanted Spock to take him to that place of fear and danger and bring him out of it again, safe.

Something shifted inside of him and he thought, _oh. Touch telepathy_ , and then Spock’s hand was wrapping around his neck, tight.

“This is what you want?”

He shook. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t bring himself to speak, but his body quaked with need. Jim’s tongue inside him, Spock’s fingers stretching him beyond capacity, and _this_ was what he needed most.

Spock pressed down.

At first, it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Just Spock’s fingers on either side of his neck, gentle almost, applying pressure. And it was just like holding his breath. Those seconds were easy, but then his body shifted, lungs aching, and he tried to breathe and _couldn’t_.

His heart beat faster. His open mouth begged for air and Spock kissed his ear so soft and gentle that McCoy was shaken to his very core. Inside him, Spock’s fingers spread, tugging him, reshaping his body towards his own ends, and he would have gasped but he had no air to do it with. He lifted his hands to touch Spock’s fingers but he didn’t try to pull them away. He was shaking, could vaguely feel Jim pulling out to kiss his inner thigh, and then his vision blurred. Not safe. Not safe. Jim was before him, kissing his slack mouth, body pressed against his, hands buried in his hair, and Spock’s mouth was on his neck, just above his index finger, sucking gently, another mark among thousands but he knew this mark—the shape of Spock’s hand—would be the one he would cherish most.

He gasped without sound. He was going to pass out—just a few—he didn’t know how long, but—soon. He would be unconscious and Spock would still be inside him, safe around him, but God it terrified him and exhilarated him and he _wanted it_ , but then—

Spock let him go.

He choked, shivering, desperate for air, shaking and moaning as he gasped. It was like he had forgotten how to breathe.

Spock kissed his ear again and murmured, “You are beautiful, my _ashayam_. You’re doing so well.”

Jim brushed the tears from his cheeks, kissed his lips. “Just hold on a little bit longer.”

Together, the two of them lifted his legs so they were bent up under his arms. Spock held his right leg with one hand, the other still resting gently on his neck, a reminder. Jim pushed his other knee up and took his cock in his hand, lining it up with McCoy’s loose hole.

“Just relax, Bones. Just let me in.”

The first push was too much and Jim couldn’t get the head of his cock inside. Spock lifted McCoy up so that just the narrow tip of him was still inside and then Jim was able to slip in, millimeter by millimeter, so slow McCoy thought he would die, but then Jim was seated in him, pressed fully against his front as he gasped against McCoy’s neck. Spock slowly lowered him down and he groaned, head lolling back weakly at the impossible fullness, and then the two men he loved most in the universe were together, inside of him.

Spock held him as Jim began to move, slowly at first, then more quickly as the mood took him. McCoy curled his arms weakly around Jim’s neck and held on for dear life as Jim fucked him alongside Spock’s hard length.

“God, Bones, how can you—how can you stand it? I can feel—feel it’s too much but you’re _taking_ it.” Jim kissed the side of his face, sloppy. “Every part of you hurts, but it’s—”

“Good,” McCoy finished for him, shivering as Spock kissed the back of his neck.

“Leonard is capable of withstanding anything,” Spock said, his voice tinged with pride.

Jim was gasping now, rhythmic. “How is it...possible for me to feel…?”

“Vulcan voodoo,” McCoy whispered, and for once Spock didn’t contradict him. He merely hummed, pleased, and held him as Jim came inside.

Jim was shaking fiercely as he emptied out. McCoy was too stretched for it to stay inside long, and it trickled down and out, wetting the space between him and Spock. Jim tried to kiss him again and McCoy turned his face to make it easier. He whined as Spock began to push them.

Spock laid them out flat, Jim on his back, McCoy fully stretched on top of him. Jim slipped from his ass and then it was just Spock inside him, rocking his hips as Jim kissed his sweaty face, ran his shaking hands down McCoy’s flank. Spock propped himself up and began to thrust into him with more purpose, cock hot again, punishing McCoy’s abused hole. McCoy tried to squeeze around him but his strength was gone. He could only lie there as Spock finished himself a second time.

He took it though. Took it all as Jim hummed, pleased, and held him through it. He could tell Spock was getting close just by the way his movement grew more wild, less in control, and then Spock slipped from him and he felt the white-hot sting of come on his back. Spock came against his ass, painting his back with his mark, merely adding to how fully sullied McCoy already was.

He lay there bruised, marked, utterly exhausted and more pleased than he could remember feeling in decades as Spock kissed that first bite mark again, soothing.

There wasn’t really enough room on the bed for even one person, let alone three grown men, and so McCoy didn’t try to move from where he was lying on Jim. Jim didn’t seem to mind, he just shifted a bit as Spock lay down beside them, pressed against Jim’s side. The two of them kissed again, pleasant and relaxed, and McCoy smiled sleepily at them.

He dozed for a while as their kissing turned from lazy to warm, and then heated, wet sounds echoing through the room. He wasn’t sure how much time passed before he felt hands on his back, searching. He murmured in pleasure and shifted, his sleepy half-hard cock brushing against Jim’s soft stomach. The hands fell to his bottom, kneading him softly, encouraging him to spread his legs still wider. He felt two fingers slide inside and he gasped softly, arching his back even as he said gruffly, “Can’t a guy get any rest around here?”

Jim kissed his forehead. “You want to rest at a time like this?”

The fingers inside him curled questioningly over his prostate and he gasped again. His body ached and he was still covered in Spock’s come and bite marks, but he still heard himself say, “I-I suppose not.”

Spock touched the bruises at his neck and McCoy shuddered at the sensation, realizing it was Spock’s fingers inside of him. “I believe I still require more attention to rid myself of the _pon farr_ ,” Spock said.

McCoy raised his head in surprise, and then saw how innocent Spock looked. _Too_ innocent. He tried to glare at him but it came out more like a smirk. “Well, we wouldn’t want you to get sick.”

Spock’s eyes brightened with delight. Beneath him, Jim chuckled.

“I like it when you two get along,” he said cheerily.

The both glared at him. McCoy silenced Jim’s laughter with a kiss and lifted his hips up into Spock’s searching hands and the three of them tangled together again, content.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work please consider checking out my tumblr at [ adenil-umano](adenil-umano.tumblr.com). :)


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